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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499270">Fallin' Flower: Zephyrantes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaSHiro_Combo/pseuds/MaSHiro_Combo'>MaSHiro_Combo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But only a little, Humor, M/M, My tags are all over the place, Mystery, Or My Bad Attempt At Humor, Romance, Some Tags Not Included to Avoid Spoilers, Somewhat Inspired by Banana Fish, Thriller, Will Give Warnings When Appropriate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:16:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaSHiro_Combo/pseuds/MaSHiro_Combo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Zephyrantes, also known as rainflowers: I love you back, I must atone for my sins, and I will never forget you.</p>
<p>"You want him, the next Leonardo da Vinci, to draw caricatures at the city fair?"<br/>"He's the one that wanted to meet my boyfriend."</p>
<p>Jihoon is a "soon-to-be famous" (hopefully) artist who spends his day staring at a canvas rather than painting on it. His life takes a huge turn when two paintings are stolen from the gallery, and one of them is his. In order to get the paintings back, Jihoon teams up with his policemen friends, the gallery owner, a grumpy secretary, two nosy reporters, and an extremely charming detective to let go of his past and save their future. But soon they discover that there are more things churning in the busy city than an art thief.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun, Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, and welcome to Mashiro's endless re-writing! In this episode, we have her rewriting her old work! Again!</p>
<p>For those of you who were here before, hi. 2020 hit me (in fact, many of us) hard, but since I got a new computer last year, I've lost all my old writings (and the notes that go with them), except for those already online and the few drafts I kept in drives. In other words, this is really a rewrite of Zephyrantes since I needed to re-plan everything.</p>
<p>The old version is still there for a couple of reasons. First, I can't bring myself to delete the nice comments people left. There weren't many in the first place but they are still near and dear to me. (This is not important to the overall story, nor will it contain any spoilers, so you can skip this if you want! I just wanted to share because I thought it was cool, and also it explains the new title.) For the second reason, as I said before, I first published the old copy of Zephyrantes in August of 2019 and updated the story until January 2020. Seventeen's Fallin' Flower came out around March of 2020. When I was admiring the MV, I noticed that there are actually several connections to my story, which I found very cool. One, obviously (and not very exciting) is the title, as Zephyrantes is a flower. Second, Jihoon is a painter, which shocked me. There's also Jisoo around the broken statues, which reminded me of my gallerist Jisoo. There are many other moments that were related that I won't talk about because that would spoil the story, but as you keep reading, you'll find many ties to the Fallin' Flower MV, whether that's my original intent before the MV or inspired by the MV. This is the reason for the new title. So I kept the old copy as proof that, at the very least, I predicted painter Jihoon! Anyway, you are free to read the old version; many of the points already brought up are still relevant, but I've revamped the entire timeline and the plot. So if you're curious, you can get a "head start".</p>
<p>Now I'll shut up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You want him, the next Leonardo da Vinci, to draw caricatures at the local art fair?” Hansol stares at the older males with eyes wide and eyebrows touching the sky. Sitting in front of him on the other side of the table, Seungcheol elbows a scowling Jihoon. They’re sitting at the popular smoothie shop at the bottom of their shared apartment. It is midday, the summer light streaming through the window brightens up the cheery and colorful shop. The light that bounced off Hansol’s rainbow shirt dances on the squeaky clean table. It was just starting to get busy, with the chatter of other people mixing with the clink of glass and the whine of machines to bring the busy scene to life.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Seungcheol shrugs. “First, it's not a local art fair, it's a social gathering at the art gallery. Second, he's the one that wanted to meet my boyfriend.” Jihoon tries to push Seungcheol off the red booth bench they were sitting on but to no avail. Damn, he really needs to go back to the gym and not sit around staring at a half-painted canvas. Hansol takes this moment to steal a sip from Seungcheol’s smoothie.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Fuck you policemen, all you do is work out.” Jihoon groans as he stirs his slushie. “I can’t torture you if I can’t even pin you down.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“You were a policeman just five months ago! And you used to work out the most!” Seungcheol says as he grabs at air and realizes his drink is gone. A glare is sent in Hansol’s direction. "Besides, I'm not asking him to draw caricatures, I'm just telling him to draw something, and maybe Jisoo would like it and you'd get a good chance."</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“But, are you going to agree to that, Picasso?” Hansol grins as Seungcheol snatches his drink back.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Name one more artist,” Jihoon points lazily, “if you can do that, I’ll tell you if I’m doing it or not.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>It’s Hansol’s turn to groan and Seungcheol’s to giggle. “It’s time to study those art magazines that comes in the mail every month for our midget artist.” This earns Seungcheol a kick underneath the table. Seungcheol, who Jihoon has known since high school, works as the head of the small investigation team of the city’s police force, and Jihoon decided to join his team after he graduated. They were joined by Hansol, Seungcheol's younger brother, and Minghao, who moved to Korea about 4 years ago. Jihoon had quit the team five months ago to pursue art and moved in with Seungcheol and his brother Hansol to save money on rent.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>A bit longer, he thinks, until he becomes famous, moves out, and will never see these two again.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Or, more like he tells himself.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Anyways,” Hansol leans forward, “are you going to do it?”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Ah, I don’t know.” Jihoon lifts his black cap, smoothing his black hair back before setting the cap back on his head. He pushes his round glasses up. “I'm not a big fan of fancy gatherings. Or of crazy rich people. Besides, is it really worth seeing Seungcheol’s horrible taste in lovers?”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Hey, he’s not horrible, he’s way better than all my ex’s.” Seungcheol protests, causing Jihoon to raise an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that, you know it wasn’t my decision when your brother and I broke up.” A glance at Hansol holding back laughter prompts Seungcheol’s annoyance. “Shut it, maybe I should stop asking Seungkwan to be our police reporter.” At the mention of the bright boy’s name, Hansol’s face goes red.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Hey, I said I’ll wash the dishes for two months!” He holds up two fingers to emphasize his point.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Besides, Jisoo told me he's looking for something new to advertise for when he officially takes over the gallery.” Seungcheol explains, “so I told him I knew someone who could help with that! And Hansol and I will be there too. We're working as security.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>The other two are surprised. “Me?” Hansol points to himself. Jihoon, on the other hand, mutters, “Rich, stuck up strangers and two idiots. My favorite crowds to work with.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Seungcheol thinks silently for a moment, and Jihoon can see a lightbulb glow over his head when his face brightens. “Oh, I almost forgot. Seungkwan will be there too, since there's no one better to report on this event other than Jisoo's cousin."</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>"Okay, make that three idiots." Jihoon had only met Seungkwan once, when the younger was spending the night at their shared apartment in order to finish a police report. One night was enough to convince Jihoon that Seungkwan runs on sugar and caffeine heated to the highest particle energy possible.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Needless to say, even hiding in his room wasn't enough to stop the boy's radiant energy from keeping Jihoon up all night.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>But Hansol’s caught. “Jihoon, come on. Besides, you like art, right? It’s only a few hours. Also, if some rich, stuck-up stranger becomes interested in your art, that’s a lot of money right there. You know how rich people are, you can throw up paint and they’ll find some deep meaning in your art.”</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>He’s not completely wrong. Jihoon can probably earn several months of rent from one painting. He’s also not wrong about Jihoon’s skill with a pencil or a brush in a limited amount of time.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>That is, when he actually has an idea of what he wants to paint. But as an artist, Jihoon is pretty sure he spends more time thinking about what to paint than actually painting. Or, more accurately, deciding that his ideas aren’t worth painting than actually deciding on something to paint. Sometimes going to his studio makes him claustrophobic and trying to paint something is like drawing blood. It sucks all the life out of him, and he spends the next days laying around, trying to find more inspiration.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>But he really doesn’t want to go back and stare at the half-painted, gray, drab, boring canvas for another two days at the very least.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>Jihoon takes a sip of his slushie and sighs. “Fine, I’ll do it. But only because I want to pay the rent.” Hansol cheers.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Alright, then that’s decided. I'll pick you guys up Saturday night then."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Researching for this story probably makes my FBI agent suspicious. Yes, searching up "where is the archive room in a museum" probably doesn't give off law-abiding citizen vibes, but I suppose I'll take my chances...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jihoon prepped himself for the last week, memorizing simple answers to obvious questions and facial expressions for every occasion, maybe preparing way too much, but as the car stops in front of the large, grand art gallery just a bit off the center of the capital, with a thick carpet lined with reporters and cameras… He's a bit scared, to say the least.  And there are definitely butterflies in his stomach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon's not used to the large media and attention the people of "high society" experience every day. He doesn't want to step out of the car, so he nervously clutches at a canvas, wrapped in cloth, and tries not to look out of the window. Seungcheol's talking to someone now, his window rolled down, and the energy outside pooling in like the dread that's pooling in Jihoon's stomach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's no way in hell I'm getting out of this car."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seungcheol sighs as he pushes the car door open with his left hand. "Do you want to spend the evening in the parking lot?" he asks as he hands his keys to the parking valet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I will if I have to."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hansol tugs at Jihoon's gray plaid suit collar from the back. "Come on. For rent!" He looks sort of funny, wearing a police outfit, sitting in the back seat. He's already looking around at the reporters, trying to spot a familiar round face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon breaths in deeply and stares at wrinkles and folds in the black cloth, as if trying to memorize the shadows and the highlights. The canvas is always easier to look at when it's covered, and he's sure that after the paint completely dried, the number of times Jihoon's properly looked at this painting can be counted using one hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yet he's sure that if there's any piece that deserves to hang in a gallery, will be displayed in a gallery, it would be this one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even if he's not quite sure he's finished yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seungcheol already made his way around the front of the car, and he props open the passenger side car door with his right elbow while offering Jihoon his left arm. Jihoon accepts his arm and takes a shaky step out of the car. Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, almost as if he's saying <em>see, that wasn't so hard, was it? </em> As Jihoon dips his face to avoid the cameras, he almost misses the person approaching them. He's slightly shorter than Seungcheol, slimmer, wearing a fitted black suit, a black bowtie, and a bright red rose pinned to the lapel. A pair of sunglasses hang out of his left breast pocket, and just one glance tells Jihoon that those are some expensive as fuck sunglasses that aren’t really for protecting your eyes, it’s for blinding other people’s eyes with your money. Shifting the canvas behind him and stepping back next to Hansol, who just climbed out of the car, he watches as the man links his arms with Seungcheol's.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite his formal look, Jihoon does think he seems like Seungcheol's type: somewhat dorky but somehow pulls it off. And Jihoon respects him just a little bit for that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Jihoon, this is Jisoo." Seungcheol motions towards Jisoo, who smiles warmly. "He's the one I told you about. I told him he could just paint something for you to see but I guess he brought one of his works."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jisoo's voice was very steady and calm. "If you don't mind, Jihoon, I can have someone take it back to the archives and we can discuss right after the event." He nods to a tall man next to him, wearing a similar black suit without the rose, a thin pair of glasses sitting on his nose. "This is my secretary, Jeon Wonwoo. Wonwoo, can you do that for me real quick?" Wonwoo nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon looks at Hansol, then Seungcheol, then at Wonwoo. His hands shake as he passes the canvas over, holding it a second longer than he should have when Wonwoo tugs lightly at it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Don't give him those, Chan, don't waste the colors.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wonwoo takes it carefully. The voice in Jihoon's head disappears and the only thing grounding him is the air in his hands, a testament to the weight lifted from his shoulders as he watches Wonwoo's back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Let's not waste any more time. Come on, follow me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>———</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon's heart starts calming down when they make it in the building and into the large hall, filled with a huge sum of white-clothed tables, people chatting in evening gowns and suits, waiters and waitresses pushing drink carts. The flashes are gone, the noise is dying down, and now he's left with his thoughts and his vision swimming. There's so much to see, to hear, and he's overwhelmed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's standing next to Seungcheol and Jisoo, next to the grand stairs that also served as a stage, trying to not look awkward as he studies the flowers arranged in a thin glass in the middle of the table closest to the stage. Jisoo's chatting with a group of people dress fancily. Hansol had long left them to find Seungkwan. The lights that reflect from the chandeliers on the tall ceilings bounce off the glass and the water it's holding, making light patterns on the table cloth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he should have gone with Hansol to meet Seungkwan. Jihoon couldn't match their energy even if he inhaled a plate full of caramel candies, but at least he wouldn't look like an out-of-place decoration in the middle of the fancy hall. He looks around, trying to spot Hansol or Seungkwan, and that's when his eyes lock onto a table several meters in front of him. Or, more accurately, someone standing next to the table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Standing there, tall, almost like a pillar, is his father. He's the spitting image of Jihoon, but more square and old, wearing a charcoal gray suit. The wrinkled permanent frown on his face makes him look so much older than Jihoon remembered since he last saw him five years ago. He's talking to a lady whose back was turned to Jihoon, but her long brown hair made his breath hitch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's not exactly sure where they stand, five years after his mother died. Back then, his father always argued with his mother while she wasted away in a hospital bed. Whenever he sees his father, he thinks back to five years ago, when he stood, side by side with his father and his older brother, knee-deep in snow, tears frozen on his face, head bent down, staring at two graves. He hasn't contacted his father since he graduated high school and join the police.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When their eyes meet, his father's expression doesn't even falter, but Jihoon looks away immediately. His father nods politely to the lady in front of him, excusing himself, as he starts to make his way around the table, which causes her to look back, and a small part of Jihoon relaxes when her face looks nothing like his mother. She steps to the side as his father starts walking towards Jihoon, he only turns once to give a greeting to someone he passed by.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's not wearing his white doctor's coat, but staring at his back was still like staring into his own past.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Why don't you go love him then? Because I can't. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I won't.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon takes a startled step back, bumping into Jisoo, who gives a concerned glance. “Jihoon, what’s wrong?” His hand rests on Jihoon’s shoulder reassuringly, but Jihoon can't feel it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Um, where's the bathroom?" His head is spinning. It’s crowded in here, he’s sweating, it’s hot, but he’s shivering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's that way, down the hall to your right," Jisoo points. Jihoon shrugs off the hand and sprints towards the right hall, trying not to run into anyone. He’s not even trying to remember which turns he took, but he finds himself in the bend of an abandoned L-shaped hallway, without any displays or paintings, with dim lights and squeaky clean floors. Jihoon‘s heaving, chest convulsing in an attempt to keep itself alive. When Jihoon takes in his surroundings, he sees that he's standing in front of a bathroom, but a firm push on the door reveals that the door is locked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon faces the door for a solid 3 minutes, calming himself, debating whether he should turn around and try to find his way back, when he hears footsteps to his left, further down the hall. A hand touches the right side of Jihoon's body as someone wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him backward behind the bend in the hallway. The man has a serious expression, the outside ends of his eyes pointing slightly up, dark red hair framing a round face and distinctive cheeks, mouth tilted in concern. His other hand is tucked into the pockets of his black dress pants. The tie around his unbuttoned collar was loose and it droops on his white shirt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly, his every instinct is telling Jihoon to get the hell out of there, but the only thought in his mind at this moment is how undeniably attractive this man is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What are you doing here?" He whispers as he peeks over the wall, looking towards the fading footsteps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was looking for the bathroom…?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He glances at Jihoon skeptically. "And you decided to pass by three public bathrooms, just to try to get in a locked, private one?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon blinks, slightly embarrassed. "It's complicated, I wasn't really thinking straight."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He takes one more peek and looks back at Jihoon, pulling his arm away. "Do you know the gallery owner?" Jihoon nods in reply. "Go and find him, tell him to send security towards the archives."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jihoon turns, but then he stops. There are way too many turns in front of him. "Um, which way is it back to the hall again?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you kidding me?" He sounds more frustrated than annoyed. "Take the first right and you should be in the branch with all the nature paintings, and there is a sign hanging on the ceiling that will guide you back." Looking back to thank the man, his eyes widen at the person standing behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeing his eyes, the man starts to turn back, but there's a gun pointed at his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm surprised to find you here, Jihoon." The person behind him says. Jihoon barely chokes out his name.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Jeonghan?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And... so it begins. I'm swamped in work right now so the next update might take a while. It's not quite a cliff hanger, though :P</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Comment or leave a kudos if you liked it! (I mean, you don't have to, but it would be greatly appreciated!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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